Revival
by rusalka9
Summary: Post Blade Trinity. The remnants of the Nightstalkers try to pick up the pieces of their lives. They didn't expect the failure of DayStar, or the subsequent trip halfway around the world. And they certainly didn't expect love. T for language and violence.
1. Prologue

**REVIVAL**

by annatari.the.writer

**Summary:** After the events of Blade Trinity, the remnants of the Nightstalkers try to pick up the pieces of their lives. They didn't expect the failure of DayStar, or the subsequent trip halfway around the world. And they certainly didn't expect love.

**A/N:** Because I love Blade Trinity, and Ryan Reynolds as Hannibal King. And because I have too much free time in class to think these things up.

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

Abby woke up crying.

In the early morning, she had gone to bed, still covered in blood and sweat, feeling emptier than she ever had before. Her only emotion was a vague sense of triumph at the death of the vampires. She knew she should be happy-- Drake was dead, Danica Talos was dead, soon all the monsters would be ash. But all she felt was cold.

In the dim afternoon light, all that changed. Instead of vacancy, she felt crowded by all these emotions that screamed at each other and fought for her attention: sorrow for Sommerfield, Dex, and Hedges; guilt that she hadn't saved them; hatred for every bloodsucking monster that had ever walked the earth; anger that she hadn't been able to kill Drake herself, that Blade had to do it for her...but most of all, she felt fear.

What was she going to do?

If the DayStar virus worked (please let it work, it _has _to work) then there would be no more vampires to hunt. Her entire life had been killing vamps; there was nothing else she could do. King had brought up the subject before...

No. She wasn't going to think about him.

Instead, she focused on Zoë. Zoë, whose mother was dead. Abby had sworn to take care of the girl, but who was she kidding? She had no idea how to raise a child. Hell, her own childhood had been so fucked up that she would probably ruin Zoë's future.

Thoughts of the past and the future swirled around Abby's head as she lay limp on her bed, tears soaking the pillow. She bit her lip to keep from sobbing aloud. Her insides hurt, and her entire body was bruised and sore from the fight at Phoenix Towers. For half an hour she just lay there, letting tears drench the pillowcase and feeling all the emotions that were running around her soul.

Eventually, the tears dried up. Abby slowly climbed off the bed, wincing at the pull of her aching muscles. Pulling the linens off the bed, she tossed them by the door. She would wash the dried blood and dirt off them later.

Grabbing some clothes, Abby walked to the shower. Turning on the water, she stripped off her ruined clothes and climbed in. Usually she would just sit under the water, letting it wash everything away. Today, she scrubbed her skin furiously, trying to get all the gore off. When her skin was rubbed a raw pink color, she turned the water off, choosing not to linger any longer than necessary. Showers made her think of Sommerfield.

Sounds coming from the kitchen drew her attention. There she found King and Zoë sitting at the counter, quietly eating cereal. Zoë's face was pale and covered with tear stains. King's face was blank, but his eyes were distant. He didn't look like himself. He looked more like the broken familiar she had once rescued, who couldn't do anything but sit and stare with blank eyes.

He did look up when she entered. "Hey," he said. No jokes, no humor. Not even an implied innuendo in his tone.

"Hey," Abby replied. Mechanically she went through the process of getting a bowl of cereal for herself. She sat next to Zoë with it and stared into it, poking it half-heartedly with a spoon.

Five minutes later, she still had not taken a bite. She looked up when Zoë's spoon clattered into the girl's empty bowl. King had noticed as well. Moving carefully, as if he didn't wanted to startle Zoë, he picked up the bowl and put it in the sink. Then he knelt next to Zoë's chair and spoke to the girl.

"Zoë, sweetie, I need to talk to your Aunt Abby for a minute. Want to go wait for me in the rec room? You can watch cartoons with Caulder." King's voice was low and soft, so unlike his usual tone.

Zoë hesitated, then nodded. She slid out of her chair and trudged to the door, followed closely by King. He stood in the doorway to watch her walk down the hall to the rec room. When she disappeared behind the door, he shut the door almost all the way, leaving a crack open, then returned to his seat.

Abby avoided his gaze, choosing to look at her soggy cornflakes.

"Whistler," he said. "We need to talk."

Dropping the spoon into the bowl, Abby pushed the bowl away. "I don't want to talk." She saw King watch her for a moment before returning to his own cereal. Abby watched him out of the corner of her eye for a few minutes before speaking. "How can you eat?"

He shrugged. "Danica was fond of starving me, even before she turned me. I learned quick to eat when there was food, no matter how hurt I was."

Cautiously, Abby looked up, but he wasn't looking at her. He was looking at the table in a thoughtful way. "Are you glad she's dead?" she asked.

King looked up and met her gaze. He nodded once. "Yeah. Even if it was the DayStar that killed her and not me." He returned his eyes to the table.

Abby sighed. So much had happened over the last week that it felt like it would take the rest of her life to absorb it all. "What did you want to talk about?" she asked, deciding to get the dreaded conversation over with. She knew what he wanted to talk about.

"What are we going to do?" King's question was what had been bouncing around her head for the last few hours, with one exception. With him, it was "we". Not "I", not "you".

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "Before she...Sommerfield made a video recording. She asked us to take care of Zoë."

Finally, some emotion appeared on King's face - surprise. "Us? What made her think we could raise a kid?"

"I don't know. Maybe she thought we could protect her." Her sentence continued unspoken. _We couldn't protect anyone, and they all died._

"What about everything else?" King asked, changing the topic as if he knew what Abby was thinking.

"What 'everything else'?" Abby snapped. "There is nothing else. DayStar's taken care of the vamps, and Blade's gone."

This new topic wasn't any better than the old one. "Did you see the news report about Blade?" asked King.

Curious, Abby forgot her anger for a moment. "No. What did it say?"

"The FBI claims he's dead. The body they found in looked just like him. I guess they didn't figure out that it was a shape-changing vamp."

"Good for Blade. They won't be looking for him anymore."

After this comment, they didn't have anything left to say. They sat in silence for a moment, then King stood and put his cereal bowl in the sink. "I'll be with Zoë." He walked out of the room, leaving Abby sitting alone, staring at nothing.

* * *

**A/N:** It was a little angsty, but I thought it fitting. Please review. The next chapter's a great one, and I want plenty of motivation to post it. Besides, reviewers get protection from evil vampire pomeranians.


	2. Chapter One

**REVIVAL**

by annatari.the.writer

**Summary:** After the events of Blade Trinity, the remnants of the Nightstalkers try to pick up the pieces of their lives. They didn't expect the failure of DayStar, or the subsequent trip halfway around the world. And they certainly didn't expect love.

**A/N:** Chapter One, which is a great dealer longer than the prologue. And it has plot (plot!) of all things. And Abby, King, Zoë, _and _Caulder. Did I mention the plot?

Oh, and, uh, language alert. Those Nightstalkers have some very dirty mouths. It's a shame, but what can a writer do? And I don't think I've mentioned this yet, but...

I DO NOT OWN THE BLADE MOVIES, CHARACTERS, ETC. I do own the plot, original characters, all that stuff. You can tell the difference, I think. So like, don't sue me. I am DISCLAIMED.

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

A week later, very little had changed. Abby was still grim and silent, though King had regained enough of his sense of humor to make a few jokes with Zoë and Caulder. He didn't try to be funny with Abby. He wasn't suicidal.

They all spent their time grieving for the dead. Everyone had their own way of coping. Abby alternated between sorrow and rage, with a constant sense of guilt that made her irritable and quiet.

King was quiet also, but he spent almost all of his time with Zoë. It didn't make much sense to Abby. The sight of Zoë reminded her of her failure to keep Zoë's mother safe, but King never left the little girl alone. Sometimes, Abby would see him looking at the child with an odd expression in his eyes, but she didn't ask why. Zoë clung to King, afraid to be alone after being kidnapped by Drake.

When the one-week anniversary of the deaths arrived, the grieving was interrupted by an announcement by Caulder.

"I am afraid that DayStar was not as...effective as we hoped it would be."

Abby was dumbfounded. King spoke for her. "What?"

Caulder sighed and slumped against the wall of the training room where he, King, and Abby had gathered. "The virus didn't spread far enough or fast enough. Despite the success within the city, by the time it spread across the country the vampires had discovered it and took precautions. Reports from other cells are varied; smaller, less sophisticated vampire houses fell quickly, but the more advanced are quarantining themselves until they can find an antidote of some sort."

"Can they do that?" Abby asked. "Find an antidote?"

The older Nightstalker shrugged. "Maybe. I'm not half the scientist Sommerfield was, but some of these houses have enough resources and connections to put dozens of researchers on this. And until then, they'll be using the most advanced antiviral technology available."

King growled. "Blood-sucking bastards have probably got familiars in the fucking CDC by now." Abby and Caulder nodded in agreement.

Abby lay her head back against the wall, sighing. "So," she began, asking what she knew Caulder wanted her to ask. "What are we going to do?"

"What we always do," King said before Caulder could answer. "Kill them."

* * *

The atmosphere began to change. There was no longer time for grieving; every day the vampires came closer to an antidote and a comeback. The Nightstalkers knew that if the vampires managed to defeat DayStar, they would be the first targets, and after the last time they went head-to-head with the creatures of the night...well. No one wanted a repeat.

King found Abby in the training room, beating a punching bag with oddly mechanical movements. "Hey," he said.

Abby stopped her punches. "Hey," she replied. "What's up?"

King approached her until he was just a couple of feet away. "Caulder's got something. A report from a contact about a surviving nest of vamps."

Nodding, Abby used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat off of her forehead. "Yeah? Where?"

"Spain."

* * *

"Córdoba, Spain." Caulder had pulled up a map of Europe on the computer. He zoomed in on the Iberian Peninsula until the city's location was clearly displayed. "Typical European vamp city. Real historic. It was the one of the greatest cities in the world in the tenth century, when it was under Muslim rule."

"Skip the history lesson, dude. Get to the important stuff." King was unimpressed with the past. History had always been his least favorite subject.

Caulder cleared his throat and continued. "Alright, here's what our Spanish contact told us. Though DayStar did get to a few of the vamps in the bigger cities, like Madrid, other places have managed to avoid the virus. We aren't sure how, but the contact did say that a lot of the vamps over there are reclusive and prefer to send familiars out to get their food for them. As soon as they heard about DayStar, they went into lockdown."

He closed the map and opened another file, a photo of an old painting, portraying two beautiful women. They were obviously Spanish, with large dark eyes and wavy brown hair. Their clothing appeared to be several centuries old.

"These are the Jacaño sisters. Elena and Maria. We don't know much about them, except that they are at least four hundred years old and that they've resided in the same place for as long as we have known of them. This," he showed them another photo, "compound in the heart of Córdoba."

The photo showed a massive building of stone that looked old in the way only European structures managed. It wasn't a very good photo; it appeared to have been taken from a moving vehicle on the street outside the compound.

"The Jacaño sisters are obviously fond of their privacy." The photograph showed several familiars standing guard at the front entrance of the building. "We do know that there are at least fifteen or so vamps in the compound, not counting the sisters themselves."

"There isn't a team in Spain, or anywhere else in Europe, that can take care of this?" Abby asked. The last thing she wanted was to go almost halfway around the world (though, truthfully, she didn't know what she wanted, except a time machine).

Caulder shook his head. "No. There never were many teams over there – the stronger, older vamps have too many defenses – and most of the teams in existence were wiped out. The handful of hunters left aren't prepared to handle the Jacaño sisters."

_And we are?_ Abby wanted to argue, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. From the day that Caulder had announced the failure of DayStar, she knew it wasn't over. Not for her, and not for King.

"When do we leave?" King was not as excited as he usual was when presented with a hunt, but he wasn't hesitant either.

"Three days. We have to give the Spanish contact time to get weapons and gear for you."

* * *

Three wasn't a big number, unless it was describing the number of days spent packing, thinking, and arguing with little girls.

"I've already told you, Zoë, you can't go. It's going to be dangerous, and we don't want you to get hurt." Abby was getting a little fed up with the girl. She was just as stubborn as her mother.

"No," Zoë argued. "I don't want you to leave me. Please, Abby? I'll be good, just don't leave me alone again."

Abby sighed. "You won't be alone, Zoë. You'll be with Caulder."

"I don't wanna stay with Caulder," the little girl said, her bottom lip stick out obstinately. "I wanna go with you, Abby, and King."

"I heard my name, what's up?" King walked into Abby's bedroom, where she was trying to pack.

Zoë turned to him, her eyes widening and shining with tears. "You and Abby are going to go away without me."

Abby scowled and threw a shirt into her bag. "I tried telling her that it's too dangerous for her to come, but she won't listen."

King kneeled down to look Zoë in the face. "Aww, sweetie. I'm sorry, but you can't come. It wouldn't be safe. We won't be gone for long, only a few days."

Her eyes still wet, Zoë looked down at the floor. She didn't move or say anything for a moment. Then, she whispered, "But what if you don't come back?"

Abby froze in the middle of her packing. Her eyes darted to King, who was looking at Zoë with the strangest expression. Everything in the room was silent.

King swallowed. Abby watched the movement of his throat, detached from the situation. A voice in her head idly wondered what he would say.

"Zoë," he began, voice hoarse. "We'll come back. Abby and I promise. Don't we, Abby?"

Abby snapped back to reality. She exhaled slowly. King and Zoe were looking at her expectantly.

"Yeah. We promise, Zoe. We'll come back." Her voice was falsely cheery, but it worked. Zoe sniffled and dragged her hand across her eyes, smearing her face with tears.

"Okay. As long as you come back," Zoe agreed. Satisfied, the little girl trudged out the room. The two Nightstalkers watched her go, leaving them alone in their silence, which lasted for minutes that felt like hours.

Abby had returned to her packing. King's eyes followed her movements as she took out the clothes she had already placed in her bag and began refolding them. Her hands--scarred from a hundred of fights--pressed against a shirt, smoothing it. The wrinkles didn't go away.

"Abby."

She didn't look up.

"Come on, Abby, look at me. We need to talk."

Her hands began folding socks, placing them in a neat row.

"Dammit, Abby!"

King grabbed her shoulders and shook her. Abby growled and snapped her arms up, knocking his hands off. He just grabbed her again, gripping tighter.

"What the hell is your problem?" he shouted.

"My problem?" Abby screamed. "My problem is that I'm tired of lying to her, to everyone! I'm tired of lying to myself. It's not going to be oh-fucking-kay! It never will be, and I'm tired of everyone acting like it will be!"

"Maybe it would be okay, if you would stop being so cold. You're shut off, Abigail, and none of us can get in. You're walking around like a fucking robot, for Christ's sake!"

Abby punched him in the face. He stumbled back, his hand reaching up to touch the blood on his lip, then his eyes got hard.

"You wanna hit me? Fine. Give me all you've got, because I'm not going anywhere, _Abigail_."

She hated to be called that. She hit him again, this time in the chest, but it didn't seem to affect him. She shoved him as hard as she could; he just stepped back and stared at her.

"Go to hell, King! Go anywhere, just get the fuck out of my face!"

His voice was taunting. "Not gonna happen, Abigail. You're stuck with me."

Abby was breathing heavily, glaring at him with angry eyes. She locked gazes with him for a moment, then she turned away and walked out of the room.

King watched her go, expression dark. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "Dammit, Abby," he said again. "Why do you have to be so difficult?" He sighed, then strode out of the room. One way or another, he was going to make Abigail Whistler wake up from this emotional coma. In the meantime, he could only hope that her erratic behavior wasn't going to get them killed.

* * *

**A/N: **Soooo...what did you think? Still angsty. Abby has issues. She's going to work through them, though. Eventually. Probably. I think.

King is so sexy when he's provoking people, is he not? Leave me a review if you agree (and if you don't, leave a review anyway – I've always wanted to speak with someone not of this Earth).


End file.
